Batman and the Tomboy Blunder
by Mistlan
Summary: Clarity is in to do a mural. Batman is dead set to keeping his private past, private. Now if only his two hostages would quit breaking into the Batcave. Warning: violence, crude humor, and Iruka clocks Bats with a Claymore. The madness continues.
1. Bat Suit Boy

Summary: Clarity is in to do a mural. Batman is dead set to keeping his private past, private. Now if only his two hostages would quit breaking into the Batcave.

* * *

**The Dark Knight and the Tomboy Blunder**

**Chapter 1: Bat Suit Boy**

It was the first time in my life that I _ever_ traveled alone in a long, long time. Gotham city was not what I expected for a city. Its good neighborhoods meshed in with the bad as far as crime was concerned. Its history, unexpectedly rich and colorful, with its most recent historical figures looking like upchuck from a cosplay convention. All those brightly colored useless outfits looked like an eyesore on Gotham's Grayish, New York City Like backdrop. I mean, c'mon, the last time I saw someone dress ridiculous was at that one convention when someone decided it'd be wonderful to wear Hanes Briefs over the top of his pants. Laugh while you still can, it's not like I knew I was going to be kidnapped by a bunch of nut jobs in one trip or the fact that, like usual, someone got dragged with me.

Iruka Umino was at the corner of 7th Street when I happened to walk by 8th Street with a bag of groceries in hand. Usually it's easy to spot him, I mean average build for where he comes from, tanned skin, flack jacket, brunette ponytail and a scar across his nose just like that one guy chasing the big burly dude in a cowl. WAIT A MINUTE! I did a double take. I heard Iruka's irate voice boom all over the city.

"YOU COME BACK HERE WITH MY HITAI-ATE!" Iruka roared in his native tongue of the Land of Fire, "THIS IS YOUR LAST . . . WARNING!"

I felt my heart just stop beating. What is he, of all people, doing in a civilian Metropolis? Last I remembered, he was a school teacher, of a ninja Academy no less. He's the kind of guy that does office work and Ninja life skills 101. Not the kind of person I'd see running wild down the street waving a European Claymore. Then again, screaming his lungs off, is something I've already seen 3,465 times already this past year and tonight would make 3,466.

From what my client so graciously told me, if there was a man in a Bat suit; just make sure to stay 300 yards away so he can go about his work. What do I do? Help a stranger running around in a unitard or help my friend? I run after the two of course there had to be a reason why a ninja school teacher would shout obscenities and wield a big sword that was supposed to be too heavy for him. I chased him down the back alleys. Iruka panting, kept getting slower and slower with every swing.

"Iruka, Iruka!" I yelled, Iruka jumped slightly but not enough to _not_ drop that sword and start panting, "Yo Iruka! How you been? I haven't seen you in-"

ZING

WHAM

THUNK

Iruka just threw a 15th century blade and bashed in the head of a 21st century . . . What could I call the guy? Dude? Dudette? The whooped man in a bat suit? Bat Suit Boy fell to the ground in a heap. A twenty meter drop never sounded so icky. Iruka straightened up as if he never killed a guy in his life. He stretched making several bones pop in relief. He turned to me and sauntered back like a cat who ate the early bird.

"Iruka . . . What did you just do!" I cried, normally it's me who does the stupid stuff and him doing the yelling; not the other way around.

"Oh . . . Who me?" Iruka innocently asked, his brown eyed face taking on the innocent look so many kids gave him when they said the Inuzukas ate their homework, "Well I'm on vacation! I knew you were going to the area with the most unusual Crime Rate so I bribed Hokage-sama with Mike's Hard Lemonade and challenged her to a game of poker. If I won, the Hokage granted me leave. If she won I did her paperwork for the next . . . Hmm . . . Thirty years. It's a good thing she's the legendary sucker."

"Iruka," I gasped my face falling to my hand, "Iruka, Iruka, Iruka, _why!_ Why would you go chasing after Bat Suit Boy with a stolen weapon?"

"Oh," Iruka chuckled whole heartedly, don't get me wrong he's actually a very bright guy. It's just that Ninjas and big cities that aren't used to fights breaking out or "Sparring" as my ninja pals call it don't mix, at least not well. "I thought the curator said I could use it. They don't make good quality weapons here in Gotham. What's the use of saying "Come out with your hands up" when you hide behind a car door pointing a . . . now what did you-oh yeah! Pointing a .45 semi-automatic weapon."

"It's a gun Iruka, a pistol, semi-automatic weapons are used by the thugs on this street." I explained wearily, I could see it in my head now. Iruka broke into a museum, stole an ancient artifact and proceeded to run after Bat Suit Boy for stealing his favorite piece of head gear.

"Alright alright, look you aren't supposed to go and . . ." I started hands mildly flailing. Iruka leaned in closer. I punched him in the face. "GOOD GRIEF ALMIGHTY! IRUKA! HOW DUMB CAN YOU GET? YOU JUST BECAME A WANTED MAN IN A CITY OF AT LEAST 8 MILLION CIVILIANS! HALF OF THEM COPPERS YOU . . . YOU . . . IDIOT! THIS IS THE KIND OF STUFF YOU YELL AT NARUTO FOR!"

"Wait a second, I need to get my Hitai-ate!" Iruka chattered and dashed away, leaving me . . . Fuming. Oh well, so much for being sensible. I often forget Iruka's at least a few years older than me, well, actually I forget a lot of people's ages. It doesn't help when one of the closest things I've had to a drinking buddy (she drinks, I don't) lately is a fifty-three year old woman who drinks, gambles, and once told me Alcoholics Anonymous is for _old suckers_. She tells me this in the same guise that keeps her looking in her early twenties.

I took off my cardigan and ran to wrap up the sword. It was three feet away from Bat Suit Boy. Darn thing was heavier than it looked when I went to lift it. I was about to wrap that William Wallace Blade as carefully as I could when Bat Suit Boy caught my eye. He stood pretty tall, handsome if you like the whole strong jaw line thing, and was bleeding in the middle of the road. Iruka got to all the compartments on Bat Suit Boy's belt and since none of them were labeled he opened every single one.

Wahoo, so many toys, at least to Iruka's eyes they looked dandy. I don't know why ninja's liked the whole hidden weapons bit but Bat Suit Boy had enough bat shaped boomerangs, grappling hooks, car keys, hand cuffs, yadda-yadda, cell phone, and communicator thingies to supply a small country or in Iruka's case, his pockets. The only thing he took instead of all those fancy gadgets was a worthless bat-shaped pen, you know, the kind Trick-or-Treaters get, and a pad of black sticky notes. What was up with Bat-suit Boy and all the black?

"Ahhh, here it is." Iruka sighed happily, pulling out a blue bandanna like headband with the leaf engraved metal plate in the middle. He tied it on to his forehead and noticed the blood trail. With a huff he brought Bat Suit Boy up into a kneeling position. Dude was out cold, his head sagged of its own accord. There was nothing left to lean him on. I offered my back as Iruka ripped up Bat Suit Boy's cape for some impromptu head wrapping.

"It's not much," Iruka mused tempted to lift that cowl to see the rest of his face, "But that's what he gets for stealing from a ninja."

I plucked each gadget one by one, that Iruka hadn't swiped already (ninja thing), and placed them back into the belt. The materials looked expensive. Lots of them imported goods. Hey, I'm just a starving artist who runs a gift shop. Even I know expensive materials when I see it.

"Wow! I think Bat Suit Boy put on a little weight." Iruka heaved, I cocked an eyebrow. The same guy who turned a fifty pound longsword into a fastball couldn't lift a grown man? He was running low on Chakra and I was not going to just stand around and allow a trained killer loose on Gotham City. No matter how friendly he is.

"Hold on, how about I use this thing," I stated pulling out my own cell phone. I dialed my Client's number.

"Who are you calling?"

"Commissioner Gordon," I deadpanned and went back to dialing. I could've swore I heard the alarm bells going off in his head.

"The cops!" Iruka freaked, "But like you said I'm a wanted man! Wanted men don't go to get arrested."

"They don't call," I agreed, "But I do. I'll do the talking and make sure you're not stuck in Stonegate Prison. Eithier that or I call the Hokage. I'm certain she'll be laughing her head off about you clocking Bat Suit Boy in the head."

Iruka folded his arms and huffed, "Yeah . . . So . . . That's what he gets for stealing from a ninja. I've done the same thing to Kakashi once or twice back home and it's perfectly legal to-"

SQUELCH

I threw a tomato at Iruka. The squishy thing hit him dead in the nose. He glowered at me. Tomato juice pouring down his lips and dripping off his chin. He didn't say another word.

"Yeah-yeah," I jibed, "It's legal to throw stuff at people. It _does not _mean you can kill him! Luckily, there weren't a lot of witnesses and I can at least sweet talk the authorities into calling this a "mishap.""

"It wasn't a mishap." Iruka corrected, "I was just killing him so he's not a threat to this village."

"City," I interjected.

"Whatever."

I made the call. Commissioner Gordon went to panicking saying, "I can't believe it! Hey Barbara, you're not going to believe this but Batman got hit with a sword."

The sound of broken glass. Gordon must've been talking to his teenage daughter. Otherwise, the gasp wouldn't have been so high pitched.

"Is he-" they both started to ask.

"Fine?" I finished knowing this would not end well, "Yes Bat Suit Boy is fine even though he is bleeding severely and his assailant, a foreigner named Iruka, only decked him because Batman ran off with his girly headband. I mean seriously, it was all just a cultural misunderstanding."

Iruka glared, pointedly. He did not know what language I was speaking. He knows the sound of his name spoken in English. He hates my tone of voice right now. The only thing that saved me from getting my throat slit was he didn't understand a word of what I was saying. Lucky me, I'm on a ninja school teacher's hit list.

"Well, Clarity Cratchet, it's a good thing you're not walking home alone after dark." Gordon lectured which got me kind of sweating, I was already walking home alone before Iruka showed up, "I'm getting a cop car over to pick you three up myself. Your hotel room's safe but oh, you forgot your bag at my office, the one with all your art stuff. Bring Batman with you but stay . . . In . . . the shadows. If word gets out someone bested the Batman over a tiny little thing. I can assure you that people will come bashing down the doors. We'll put Iruka in a holding cell for the night. Ignorance does not mean he's going to get off easy Clarity, that's the way the ball bounces."

"Alright Commissioner Gordon, uh-huh bye." I replied, heaved a sigh of relief and turned to Iruka, "Okay, I got everything squared away, at least I made sure you didn't have a permanent criminal record."


	2. Commissioner Clayface

Disclaimer: Naruto and Batman are not mine and therefore you won't find chaos like this anywhere else.

Note: Why is whatever Iruka is saying underlined? Well I was going with the fact Iruka really is from another country, a vastly different culture, and the fact that he'd probably be extremely clueless when it came to american culture in general. Clarity

* * *

**Chapter 2: Commissioner Clayface**

Commissioner Gordon pulled up in the alleyway just like he promised. A stray cat, pure bred Siamese looking thing with an all black coat really, went straying along the path. Piteous mewls of concern before it ran up a fire escape. The on looking stare of a couple of homeless men, interrupted when the Commissioner's car door slammed open and he stepped out. Talk about drama, the tan trench coat over his button down shirt and suit pants swayed a little with each step. He bent down to examine Bat Suit Boy who didn't respond much, besides the usual groan each time his head was prodded with a curious finger. His silvering hair shown bits of chocolate meaning he used to be a brunette before his handlebar moustache and distinctly combed hair went totally gray.

"Commissioner Gordon I presume?" Iruka responded which startled the man at first, especially when he looked at the ninja. Iruka doesn't look like much at first glance, but I could see the shinobi's eyes make a millisecond run through over the older man.

"Hmm . . . What?" Gordon responded

"This is Iruka Umino. He wants to know if you're really the Commissioner. Commissioner Gordon." I translated which earned me another glare from said Iruka, "Excuse me."

"Why are you trusting this man?" Iruka quipped, "From what you told me the police carry pistols! This man has not held a weapon in his life."

The Commisioner offered an outstretched hand, that was free from any of the tell tale calluses found from pulling a trigger. I gulped, and took a look at the car; Rolls Royce with an out of state license plate. It was not the model of a typical police car. The color a midnight lacquer blue instead of the traditional Black and White of the Gotham Police Force. The warning from the Commissioner's, the-the _real_ Commissioner's phone call came too fast.

"_If word gets out someone bested the Batman over a tiny little thing. I can assure you that people will come bashing down the doors."_

"Clarity are you alright?" The fake Commissioner asked too innocently, "You're shaking."

"-I-I'm-not-shaking!" I stammered, too late, my entire body felt like a milkshake set on smoothie.

"Ugh," Bat Suit Boy groaned as he leaned forward to clutch his head with one hand while the other thumbed through the compartments on his belt, by feel he looked disoriented. He threw something at the Rolls Royce. The explosive device stuck itself to the vehicle and started to beep. Iruka grabbed Bat Suit Boy by his cowl and started to motor.

"Run!" He yelled, too little too late.

BOOM!

The car exploded. Debris flying skyward. A plume of smoke rose 2 stories high. The shock before the bang sent me flying. I was still scraping through the dirt when Bat Suit Boy went staggering my way. His mouth contorted into a deep, deep frown.

Rule something or another: A shinobi can't show fear, or . . . Any other emotion for that matter. I read the rule book inside and out myself once I had the time (research, my hobby). If Bat Suit Boy was wearing a ninja outfit, I'm certain some Shinobi would be so proud, except for the bleeding. Had to stop the bleeding.

"Clarity what are you doing!" Iruka demanded, voice cracked, hand in kunai pouch, heart racing, "We need to move! Now!"

I stopped and stared. My bag of groceries stomped underfoot by a giant mash of dark adobe mud. I was scared stiff watching in horrid fascination at . . . The . . . The . . .the thing that faked Commissioner Gordon! How could a humanoid blob of mud-no-_clay _actually shift and mold itself to be so puny! From what I've heard, the Commissioner is no small fry, his height can fill a door. However this . . . This thing was a giant, a Goliath, a mass of clay with misshapen teeth. He stomped forward, making squishy sucking sounds in the earth with every step till his enormous height filled my sights. I could only stand there boggle-eyed staring up and up and up.

His soulless drooped eyes lit upon me with the mirth of someone who considers everything beneath him and sneered, "I heard someone clobbered the Bat. Tell me lady, would that be you?"

"Uh ah ah," I garbled, the voice from his mouth was surprisingly human, contralto even, "Ya-you wouldn't happen to be Clayface would you?"

"Yeah so what of it!" Clayface snapped. My mind was in shock. I had to think of something. Could I tug heartstrings? Could I push buttons? He's made of clay, more specifically earthenware, unrefined clay straight from the earth with quartz mixed through. He glittered like sandstone. He put a misshapen hand mass behind his back. The sound of warping materials had me guessing he was shaping a pendulum blade or a giant hammer. I had to do something to keep his hands busy.

"Can I have your autograph! You are, like _such _an amazing actor." I gushed, ruining Clayface's concentration. Bat Suit Boy fought the urge to slap himself and settled for leaning against Iruka. Iruka, had no idea what was going on until he saw me hand Clayface a pen and some random scrap of paper I found.

"CLARITYYY!" Iruka roared, "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING!"

From Clayface's tall point of view, he thought I was just smiling up at him with my hands coyly clasped behind my back. In reality, I found it a lot harder to sign the letters, T-A-K-E-C-L-A-Y-F-A-C-E-T-O-G-R-E-E-N-H-O-U-S-E. Bat Suit Boy's vision must've been a little hazy. His lips mouthing the letters, U-S-E-W-A-T-E-R while Iruka only looked in hardened concentration at the letters I was forming.

"Don't do it Clarity," Iruka warned me, "Don't use yourself as a distraction."

W-A-Y-T-O-G-O-B-A-K-A! I signed back, if I opened my mouth I knew Clayface's suspicions would already be raised more than they already were. Man, was I glad, Iruka did not speak English. Dane villian already saw Bat Suit Boy's lips move already. Don't need two blabbermouths for the price of one.

"So from . . . Basil Karlooo," Clayface spoke misshapen teeth clenched in Concentration, "To . . . Ucker . . . Yous . . . Eh that's a weird name, your family from Gotham?"

"Maybe," I cheerily lied, I didn't have the heart to tell a Quartz induced psycho that I was pretty much born an unwanted world traveling orphan, I took my own hasty steps to the greenhouse. It took Clayface only two long strides to catch up with me, "You?"

"Well I used to star in this one movie, The Terror, audience loved it!" Clayface chattered, he grinned, mud between the gums; ewwww, "You know I was actually among the ones hiring actors for the remake? Well this one schmuck, someone from Tri-star or another got the idea to send in their . . . Actor. Guy was a total joke! I should know I played the serial killer, but that bed-wetting mama's boy didn't even have half the talent I held in my pinky!"

He holds his pinky up to demonstrate. Well his pinky ring size happens to be size mammoth! You'd have to be a walking mud heap to be that size. No pun needed or intended.

"So I squashed them dead!" Clayface cheered, his meaty mudfist slamming into his open palm. "Tristar my foot, they got what they deserved!"

I nodded my head, slowly as I led that sucker to the tropical plants section. I stood there in the shade as Clayface went to face me. He was standing right in front of the heater. Iruka laided Bat Suit Boy against a glass wall before going straight to the control panel. He took it off only to bite his cheek in fury. THE DIRECTIONS WERE IN ENGLISH. Of course they would be, no one in this part of Gotham is bilingual. He growled in frustration. All I could see where I was standing was a kunai flip through the air as Iruka jumped up to smash the thing. Who knows if that guy was willing to trust us or not. I'm guessing not since the Bat launched himself and got Iruka into a chokehold.

"Let me go, Let me go!" Iruka snapped flailing, "I need to hike that heater up to 2000 degrees!"

Batman made no point to even acknowledge what Iruka was saying. He flung him to the side, yet stumbled. His head still woozy from Iruka's sword flinging. He crashed into some pots. The Crash got Clayface's attention. He turned to look Iruka's direction. I swerved and barely used my fingers to guide him back my way. Big challenge; he's huge, I'm a head shorter than Iruka's village leader. I had to jump to bat Clayface's face my way.

"So what happened next?" I asked trying to steer Clayface's attention from the fact he was going to go through his first bisque firing.

"Well anyway . . . I had just joined the Social Society of Supervillians when . . ." Clayface paused and looked dumbstruck at the heater, "Wait a minute, you're not Ucker Yous! That spells YOU SUCKER! You're trying to set me up, you little Harp-eek!"

CRUNCH

I rammed my fist hard into his maw, shattering what little unshaped teeth he had left. My coat sleeve scrunched up all the way to my shoulder.

"Look you!" I glowered, "I'm not Harpy Lady! Not Maggot!"

I loosened my potter's grip. There was just one thing I didn't count on. His poisonous touch burns. My inner self screamed bloody murder. I could feel my skin melting into protoplasm but I was not going down without a fight. I already knew my weaknesses. I'm a civilian and Clayface is a villian, but he's also clay. Who works with clay? Me.

"My name's Clarity Cratchet and I am _the _artist! You TOM-TURKEY SON OF A BRAINLESS GIT!"

I slammed my other fist into his face, kneading him, punching him blindly until I shaped his lower jaw into a cavern. I couldn't do a straight jab, I'd drown in him. What'd my eulogy be? Death by the same materials that I work with? HECK NO! I kept pulling at Clayface's mouth while Clayface was choking upon my entire forearm. He barely had enough concentration to turn his hand into a blade. He swung.

"Clarity! Down!" Shouted Bat Suit Boy-I mean _Batman_ just in time for me to pull my mangled arm out of a muddy mouth . I tumbled out of the way. Clayface's blade made contact with his own face where my head used to be. He reformed himself again, charging headfirst. Fists at the ready. The Humidity slowed him down just enough, his limbs heavy from soppy moisture. It was enough for Iruka to pull me away before Clayface got a good 2000 degrees of fire full in the face.

"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUGHHHHHH!" Clayface screamed, "YOU'RE DEAD YOU LITTLE TWIIIIITSSSS!"

I just stared at the fire display before walking to the heater. Batman hid his surprise under a well practiced grimace. Iruka, already used to madness from his students, kept a stick from the greenhouse and a pack of marshmallows that I bought that Clayface hadn't stepped on. He proceeded to roast marshmallows over a 2000 degree fire pit. Meanwhile I went back to the heater and used my freehand to slowly work the knobs so that Clayface was fired just right. He's still alive though, I don't have the heart of a killer, they don't call him super durable for nothin'.

Secretly, I thanked my lucky stars that tropical plants were already used to extreme heat and moisture. Yes some of them died; a few ferns, a hundred year old sequoia raised in captivity, and a bunch of neon colored roses. The damages to both the heater and the greenhouse would've cost fifty million grand if the sequoia and desert plants hadn't bounced back. You could imagine the destruction, I'm sure, and the cops everywhere. The only evidence that there was any presence of us at all was just a big black bow wrapped around Clayface's (still living) bisque fired body along with a little note.

* * *

"Dedicated to Basil Karlo: for the man he used to be!

Not what he is now.

Toodles,

Cratchet, Iruka Umino and . . . "

* * *

Yeah, I didn't know if I should put Batman or Bat Suit Boy or what to put down so I sketched Batman's face, chibi-style, because c'mon people Batman is not my type but his anatomy is so hot! I so had to sketch that for some of my friends _back_ in the Hidden Leaf Village. Eye-candy at its best! I just had to draw a cartoony babyfied version of the guy. Commissioner Gordon, the real Commissioner ladies and gentleman, was the last at the crime scene and first to pick up my Batman Chibi.

"What's this?" Commissioner Gordon asked his fellow officers who all shook their heads. While he was busy talking, Iruka yoinked a medical kit from an ambulance and we all broke into Commissioner Gordon's car. Hey, I googled his license plate number. It wasn't hard to get in. The Commissioner left the door wide open.

"I'm asking you rookies to use your deductive skills here," Commissioner Gordon condoned to a bunch of boys in blue, "and don't say the obvious. It's been a whole night since we saw Batman and his assailant last. I want you to look at this paper real carefully and real hard."

The rookies narrowed their eyes and stared at the paper really hard as if they were going to melt it with nuclear heat vision. Commissioner Gordon rubbed his temples with his freehand and sighed. He complained silently about today's rookies taking everything a bit too literally. Now I knew this was the man that hired me. Calluses where they were supposed to be; check. He'd even been working quite a few night shifts judging by the bags under his stony eyes.

"It looks like a baby Batman." One rookie piped up pointing to the picture, "Either that or all those Japanese Comic People, one of the two."

"That's called Manga," The Commissioner stated his posture straightened like he was waiting for something or someone to come out of the shadows, "And you're not really looking."

"C'mon Commish, they're rookies," gruffed a heavyset guy, in a fedora, black curly hair and a perpetual snarl sort of, judging by the way he tripped over his own two feet and almost lost his hoagie, I'd say the guy was none other than Harvey Bullock.

"Who is the fat man?" Iruka innocently inquired, I was too busy staring out the window to notice Iruka was using the Bat Pen and drawing a seal on the sticky note attached to the inside of his Hitai-ate. "He looks like a grumpy Akimichi. Does he do expansion jutsus too?"

"No," I chorused eyes not leaving the scene unfolding before us. Batman held his head and groaned, he was monkey in the middle during our conversation. "He's not really assorted with any clan Iruka. Harvey Bullock used to be a this arrogant corrupt cop the mayor used to ruin Commissioner Gordon's career by being a klutz. Problem is I couldn't tell which accidents were on purpose and which were just purely Bullock and that's from watching the news or reading the Gotham Insider."

Batman let out the moan of a man in need of an aspirin or bat asprin, batsprin? Heck I don't know what he needed!

"Really," Iruka mused as he tied back on his Hitai-ate, "Sounds like what the council had Itachi do? If Sasuke didn't get to him first. He would've been executed. Why didn't the mayor do that to him?"

Batman was mumbling something along the lines of "This isn't happening . . . This isn't happening. . . I must suffering from Scare Crow's fear gas this isn't happening."

"Meeeh dude finally got his head out of the gutter according to what I've heard," I explained, "Don't know if that's a whole lot of Bull-lock but at least he's there to lighten the mood in his own slapstick way."

Batman finally had enough of this and shouted, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU FREAKS! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING!"

"Watch your language," Iruka gasped, "You're a grown man in a Bat Suit. What would your mother think of you wearing that into a convenience store at this time of night. I'm already licensed to spank you myself if your father isn't here to do that"

My heart just stopped beating. Iruka just spoke perfect English. He just insulted someone's mother. Oh man, and he said that to Bat Suit Boy-Batman-_whatever_. The man with enough artillery to blow up a city block.

"Don't you dare insult my parents!" Batman growled and proceeded to grab Iruka by his throat. Iruka dodged and those two just kept brawling. What were they going to do next? Arch their backs? They were already hissing and spitting like a couple of tomcats.

Note to self: Don't stick two highly dangerous people in three feet of Cop Car. Even if one just insulted the other's mother.

"I'm telling you Commish, this is a girl's handwriting," Harvey argued, using his hoagie to point things out, "There are two other people besides the Bat that turned Clayface into a pigeon post. Someone had to rig that heater to blow up the greenhouse and someone _else had_ to get his attention."

"You're not listening!" the Commissioner ordered, "You are not finding another excuse to get your own assault unit. Last time you did that, Phoenix Pharmaceuticals went up in flames!"

"No, you're not listening," Harvey snapped, "Word on the street is Clarity is a civilian menace. Everywhere she goes chaos follows. Look at the greenhouse or better yet look at Clayface; only a potter would know Clay turns to glass at 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. That Iruka Umino guy she mentioned just stole a claymore and went ballistic on the Bat's behind. There's blood on that sword we found to prove it. Those psychos could be watching us right . . ."

"DON'T YOU DARE INSULT MY MOTHER!" Batman's voice boomed over the street as Commissioner Gordon's car started rolling, yes, rolling away.

"DON'T YOU DARE STEAL MY HITAI-ATE!" Iruka yelled, him and Batman at each others throats, the car rolling dangerously into a children hospital, and me suffering from severe seasickness; joy. I was the only one buckled up and my stomach was flipping. Man, I did not want to taste my biscotti a second time.

"WILL YOU SHUT UUUUUUP!" I screamed and banged Batman's already aching skull against Iruka's noggin. Thankfully, the car stopped just short of the hospital doors. I didn't have anything else to throw and Batman looked like the next best thing.

The car door slid open. We got an upside down view of a very happy Harvey Bullock. His lopsided grin with his last bite of hoagie sticking out his mouth like a wounded cigar. His hands holding up the handcuffs as if to say "Ready or not here I come." The only thing all of us, excluding Bullock, could agree on is it's going to be a long night. Bullock was happy to finally arrest the batman.


End file.
